Florence
by angel-unknown
Summary: Reid learns that his mother has been keeping a box of letters from him for years, letters from a childhood friend who had kissed him once before disappearing out of his life forever. What happens when she shows up at the BAU? ReidxOC
1. Chapter 1

Spencer Reid stood outside Bennington Sanitarium, afraid that he might not actually be able to go through with the visit. A few patients and nurses wandered the grounds nearby, but Diana, his mother, wasn't one of them. Spencer sighed and pushed the doors open.

He found his mother sitting in her usual spot, a chair that looked out the window onto the lawn, just close enough to the bookcase. Quietly, cautiously, Spencer made his way over and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned slowly.

"Spencer?" she asked, barely more than a whisper. "You've come to visit me!"

"Hi, Mom," Spencer said. He tried to smile.

"I'm so glad you came, there's something that's been bothering me for at least a month now… I've been thinking about Florence…"

"In Italy? I've heard it's a beautiful city, Mom. Maybe I'll take you there someday-"

"Spencer Reid, don't you _dare._"

"What, take you to Italy? I know, you hate flying, but it'd be worth-"

"You and I both know that you're smart enough to know I'm not talking about a vacation spot, Spencer. I know it's hard for you to think about her, especially after what happened between you two."

"Nothing happened between us, Mom."

"She was your best friend! That's something!"

"Look, I haven't even heard from Florence in years. She never contacted me after she left."

"That's exactly what was bothering me, Spencer." She held up a shoebox that she'd been holding in her lap. "She did, in fact, contact you."

Quantico, VA, Two Days Later

"Hey, JJ," whispered Morgan, elbowing his team-mate just as Spencer left the room. "Do you know what's up with Reid? He's gotten real behind on his paperwork, spending all his time with that stuff on his desk. Know what it is?"

"No, I don't…" JJ replied. "But I'd sure like to find out."

Trying to look casual, they went over to Reid's desk so inspect the pile of papers, photos, postcards, and other junk. JJ picked up a line of photos, probably taken from a booth. Each one featured a young Reid and a red-headed girl, making faces into the camera. The red-head made wild gestures and wacky expressions while Reid just smiled softly. In one picture, the girl had hooked a finger into either side of Reid's mouth, pulling it into a ridiculous grimace that JJ couldn't help but giggle at.

"What?" Morgan asked. JJ handed him the photo strip. Morgan grinned, and then flipped it over. "Spencer and Florence," he read, "1999."

"Who's Florence, do you think?" JJ asked.

"No idea," Morgan replied. "He's never mentioned a Florence to me before."

"Judging from all this stuff, they were pretty close. Look, all of these letters and postcards are from Florence, addressed to Spencer."

She picked one up off the top of the pile.

_Dear Spencer, _it read.

_I've been waiting for word from you! Why won't you ever write me back? I know international post can be slow, but surely it doesn't take six months. I'm sure you have a decent reason for never writing back. Anyway, we've found a new apartment, so be sure to look at the return address. I've gotten a part-time job as a bar singer, but I've got an interview for a psychology magazine tomorrow. Hopefully I'll get it, and put that degree to good use, eh? Read anything interesting lately? I've been visiting the library but I still haven't gotten over not having you there to read with me. You probably think that's silly, don't you? I went to a marvelous restaurant yesterday. I know it's a cliché, but the fish and chips there are amazing. If you'd write me back, we could arrange for you to visit. And if you visit, I can take you there. Look, I send you letters, so could you please return the favor? I miss you. _

_Florence_

"Interesting," JJ mumbled.

"What's interesting?"

Morgan and JJ jumped at the sound of Spencer's voice.

"What's interesting?" Spencer repeated.

"Oh, um, the amount of paper on your desk compared to the amount of work you're getting done," said Morgan, trying to cover up his snooping.

"What are you holding- hey!" Reid snatched the photo strip and letter away from his coworkers. "Do you two have no sense of privacy? This is all _very _personal, what did you think, that you could just, just dig around through my stuff?!"

"Reid, man, settle," said Morgan, holding up his hands in defense. "We just wanted to know what was up with you. We were worried, I mean, you've been acting really weird ever since you got back from Vegas. Even for you," he ended jokingly.

"That gives you no right to mess with my _personal _belongings. I don't care how worried you think you are. That was completely… out of line."

"Sorry, Spence," said JJ.

Reid scooped up all the papers and shoved them into a shoebox that he'd picked up from under his desk. They hardly fit, bulging at the sides.

"Reid, are you leaving? You can't, there's a new agent coming in today! You'll miss the introduction and everything. I've read her work, she's a great writer at Psychology Today…"JJ trailed off. Spencer wasn't even listening as he walked out the door. A single photograph slipped free of the box, unnoticed, and fell to the floor.

"Hey, Reid, I think you dropped-" Morgan called. Reid was already out the door. "-Something…" Morgan walked over to pick up the lost picture. It was Spencer and the mysterious Florence. Florence's arm was extended towards the camera, as if she were holding it. She grinned widely, while Spencer waved awkwardly next to her. Morgan held it up to JJ. "Past girlfriend, maybe?"

"I don't think so," JJ replied. "More like 'just friends.'"

"Hmm." Morgan slipped the picture into his pocket. "Suppose we'd better get to that welcome meeting for our new team member."

"Remember to be nice, Morgan," JJ said. "She's a newbie to the FBI."

Spencer was unbelievably nervous as he dialed the number. In one of her letters, Florence had given him a phone number (this was before she'd given up on ever getting a reply from him). He could only hope it worked. He listened to the dial tones, waiting for someone to pick up. With a click, someone did. "Hello?" came the accented voice.

"I- uh…"

"Hello?" Again, the voice.

"Florence?" Spencer asked tentatively. What was he going to say to her?

The phone was silent for a moment. "Spencer Reid, is that you?"

"Florence, I-"

"Spencer, I'm not Florence, this is her mother. If I'm even that anymore."

"Oh, Mrs. Carroll, I- I wanted to talk to Florence, if she's still there…"

"I don't know where Florence is, Spencer dear. She left a few years ago, and we fell out of touch. She went off on her own, and from what I've heard she's not up to any good. I'm afraid she's become a drunk."

"She's- I'm sorry, what?"

"The last time I spoke to her, I was trying to convince her to get out of the life she was living and come back to acceptable society. She was in the sink of the ladies' lavatory in a horrid bar, completely wasted. But that was years ago. For all I know, she's dead, overdosed on some drug or alcohol poison on someone's doorstep. I don't know where she is."

"Mrs. Carroll, if you could just-"

"Goodbye."

The phone clicked as Mrs. Carroll hung up the phone. Dejected, Spencer made his way through his apartment back to his bedroom, where he flopped down on his mattress. He stared at the blank whiteness of his ceiling, remembering the last time he'd seen Florence Carroll.

_Spencer had never seen Florence so distressed. Her clothes were rumpled, her hair a mess, and the bags under her eyes were tinged with a sickly purple. Tiny lines ran down her face where she'd cried. Florence had come in through Spencer's window, just before midnight. Spencer had woken up to the creak as she'd climbed in, seen her trembling figure outlined by the moonlight. He'd leapt out of bed, flinging the blankets onto the floor, to wrap his arms around her. They'd stood like that, Florence sobbing quietly onto his shoulder, for the better part of an hour. Her tears were still wet on his t-shirt. _

_"Florence, you've got to tell me what's wrong," he said. "I can't help you unless you tell me what to fix."_

_"I- I can't, I can't, Spencer, I can't do it. I can't…" She broke down in tears again. She leaned against him. "I can't tell you." Spencer put his arms around her waist, to pull her into a hug. She took notice of this, and looked at him. She said, "I love you, Spencer Reid. Always have." And then she kissed him. Put her hands behind his head, pulled him close, and kissed him, before he could even react to her confession. Spencer was shocked beyond anything he'd ever experienced before, but then he found himself kissing back, holding her closer than he'd ever been able to before. And, like any eighteen year-old boy, he was only too aware of the fact that they were kissing in his bedroom. A foot away from his bed. He tried to ignore this fact. This was all the better for him, as she abruptly shattered the moment, gasping and pushing him away. Spencer fell back onto his sheets. "No, no, no…" Florence whispered. "I can't do this, I can't do this," she repeated. "Not to anyone, I shouldn't do this, let alone to you."_

_"Florence, please. Tell me what's going on!" Spencer sat up._

_"Shh…" She leaned down and hugged him, one last time. "I am _so_ sorry," she murmured against his neck. With that, Florence Carroll disappeared out Spencer's window. Seconds later, Spencer heard a car door slam and the squeal of tires as Mrs. Carroll's old blue station wagon sped out of the neighborhood. Spencer never saw Florence again._

Morgan and JJ went to join Gideon, Elle, and Garcia over by Hotch's the window, they could see the new girl's back. She wore a forest green business suit with purple tights and kitten heels. Her dark red hair was pulled into a loose bun, which was adorned with feathers and ribbons. JJ raised an eyebrow at the strange attire, exchanging looks with Morgan, but said nothing. Hotch, seeing the team waiting outside, motioned them all in.

Aaron Hotchner's office was only a little bit crowded with seven people in it. The new girl turned around. Morgan's eyes widened and JJ's jaw dropped at the sight of her. "Where's-" Hotch started.

"I sent him home. The poor kid needed it," Gideon answered.

While Hotch mildly reprimanded Gideon, Morgan pulled the photograph out of his pocket and showed it to JJ. "Is it just me or does she look exactly like…"

"I'm Florence Carroll, everyone. It's nice to meet you," she said in a lilting British accent.

"That's Agent Carroll, now. You'll have to remember that," said Hotch.

"Uh, hi…" Morgan said. JJ was silent.

The rest of the team welcomed her warmly, and JJ followed suit, masking her surprise. Only Morgan hung back.

When the others had moved on, Morgan went up to introduce himself. "I'm Derek Morgan," he said.

"Florence," she replied. She seemed exactly the same as in the photo, if only a little older.

"Look, I know this might sound strange, but do you know someone named Spencer Reid?"

The smile on Florence's face faded. "Who?"

"Spencer Reid," Morgan repeated, handing her the picture.

She stared at the photo, hands shaking as she took it. "Where the bloody _hell," _she whispered, "did you get this?"

**To be continued, my darlings! If you like it, keep reading. If you get to chapter three or read the reviews, then you know what's up with my newly cancelled update/review policy. I'm sorry.**

**12/10: I'm really, really sorry to all of you. I've been, let me REPEAT, selfish and amateur, and I'm not going to let it happen again. The update/review policy is officially revoked. It was stupid. I don't deserve your time. If you really like Criminal Minds, you'll get off my worthless, shitty writing and go read someone like Cassieoeia823 or CatherineJosephineMarie007. Or if you like Jasper, you'll read chuffed-git, or if you like Harry Potter you'll read lostmidtranslation. They're all better than me and much more worth your time. I don't even follow up on real life promises, let alone the stuff I promise to people on here. Disgruntled Reader, whoever you are, thank you for disenchanting me as to my worth as a writer. I needed the reality check.**


	2. Chapter 2

The smile on Florence's face faded. "Who?"

"Spencer Reid," Morgan repeated, handing her the picture.

She stared at the photo, hands shaking as she took it. "Where the bloody _hell," _she whispered, "did you get this?"

"He works here," said Morgan.

"Oh, bugger."

"What?"

"Nothing. Look, say nothing to him, okay? Not a thing." She folded the photo into her jacket pocket. "This never happened, alright?"

"Alright…" Morgan wasn't sure what to think of this development. He'd thought, for a moment, that he could reunite Spencer and Florence, and they'd live happily ever after, and Reid would finally be okay. But, he realized, that wasn't going to happen. He should know better than anyone, as an agent, that happy endings don't happen in real life. At least, not that easily.

Before Morgan could say anything else, Florence was smiling again and walking off towards the others. Was her cheerful countenance a mask? Morgan wondered. This carefree attitude, was it a shield? Against what? Morgan mentally slapped himself; the girl had hardly been here five minutes and he was already profiling her.

Reid woke up to his cell phone ringing. Hoping it wasn't a new case- that was the last thing he wanted at that point- he answered. It was Hotch.

"Reid, where are you?"

"Home, I-"

"Gideon told me he sent you home, but that's my job, not his. You're really behind on your paperwork. As the new agent has no cases to close, she'll be helping you. I want you back up here as soon as possible."

"Yes, sir…" Reid hung up and fell back onto his pillows, wishing paperwork didn't exist. At least he would have the new person to help him, though that would make for an awkward workspace.

His drive back up to Headquarters was silent, with no music. Twice, he came within a foot of smacking another car. His mind was somewhere else entirely. In his mind, he was eleven years old, reading out loud to an eleven-year-old Florence.

_"Do you want to stop, now? We've been reading for almost four hours. You must be really bored…" He trailed off._

_ "Shush! Keep going. This is my favorite part." She wore a look of childish seriousness, focused entirely on the book in Spencer's hands._

_ "But I've never read this to you before, and you haven't read it. Besides, this is a Psychology textbook. How can it be your favorite part?"_

_ "Because I don't know it yet. The stuff I don't know about people is my favorite part, because what I have seen I don't like very much. Mostly, anyway."_

Reid pulled into his favorite parking space and began the walk to his office. Upon arriving at his desk, Spencer saw the enormous stack of paperwork that he had to get done. Groaning, he sat down and picked up a pen. He'd been bent over a case file for a good ten minutes before he noticed the person standing behind him. He started and swung around in his swivel chair to confront whoever was reading over his shoulder…

"Florence?!"

"That's my name," said the redhead. "Don't wear it out."

"How- what- How did you know I was looking for you?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Well, I didn't know you were looking for me, though that's a nice thought. Thank you for finally remembering that I exist." She picked up a portion of the stack of paperwork, turned on her heel, and walked away.

"What are you doing with- Are _you _the new agent Hotch was talking about?"

"Don't sound so surprised, Dr. Reid, it hurts my feelings. If you'd ever read a single one of the letters I'd sent you started a good eight years ago, _minimum_, then you'd know that I got a job at Psychology Today, which led to my affiliation with the Scotland Yard, which, through dual citizenship, brought me here to the BAU. I, having graduated only two years after you did, am perfectly qualified to be an agent at the FBI."

"Florence… I… What happened to you?"

"What do you mean, what happened to me?"

"You just… you just disappeared, and I had no idea where you were."

"I moved, Spencer. People do that. We just went back to London, that's all."

"But… you were so… upset… Something was scaring you, and it wasn't the first time, Florence. That was only the first time you left."

"Scaring me? Upset? Spencer, what are you _talking _about?"

"That last time I saw you, you climbed in my window and you were freaked out about something. It was really late at night."

"Spencer, dear, you must have been dreaming. The last time we saw each other, we were at the coffee shop, and we were talking contentedly about future careers."

"That's not true."

"Maybe you have a fabricated memory to help you deal with the fact that I didn't say goodbye, Spencer. Or you're just… I don't know. But whatever it is that you're talking about, it never happened." She walked off again, and this time, Reid didn't try to stop her.

Unnoticed, Morgan had been standing in a corner of the room, watching the whole conversation. He hadn't intended to eavesdrop, but curiosity got the better of him. Unfortunately, the conversation overheard did nothing to satisfy his curiosity. In fact, he was left even more curious then before. He strode over to where Florence now sat, trying to look inconspicuous. He stopped about three feet behind her. "Agent Carroll?"

She jumped in surprise, but quickly regained composure. "Yes?"

"I just wanted to know if you want some help."

"Yeah, that'd be great…hm." She moved, allowing Morgan to pull up a chair. "It's funny," she said, "I'm supposed to be the one helping, not the one helped. I do appreciate it, though. I'm not entirely sure of what I'm doing."

Reid looked over at Florence, only to see Morgan pulling a chair up next to her. He knew that shouldn't piss him off, but it did. Morgan had hardly known Florence a few hours, and already she seemed to like him better than she did Reid. Why was Florence so mad at him? Spencer _knew _that she'd come to say goodbye that night. She was denying that she'd ever said goodbye. That she'd ever kissed him. Spencer knew it had happened.

He wasn't crazy.

Florence closed her front door behind her. After long hours of paperwork, talking to Morgan, and trying _really _hard not to look at Spencer, she was glad to be home. She pulled the ornaments and bobby pins out of her hair, stepped out of her work clothes and put on the oversized t-shirt she used as pyjamas.

Earlier, she'd thought she was going to have a heart attack. Having Spencer show up at her new job was the absolute last thing she'd expected. Covering up her surprise had been amazingly difficult, but having him thing that she didn't care would make everything easier. Hoping to clear her head, she turned on some cold water in the faucet and put her head in the sink. Florence opened a drawer and took out an old picture of Spencer. "I'm so sorry," she said to it- the same thing she'd been repeating to her memories for years. She felt awful for lying, but it was necessary. She couldn't have him knowing why she'd left. She wasn't going to let him get killed.

The next morning, Florence woke up to her new least favorite sound: the alarm clock. She'd never had hours this early before, and she'd hardly slept at all the night before. The cold shower didn't help her fatigue, nor did makeup help hide the dark circles under her eyes. What's worse, her eyes were also puffy from crying, which was still visible even after she'd washed away the tear tracks from her cheeks. She wore her hair down, opting for the easier road than taking the time to play with it. Instead, she pulled a familiar old hat onto her head and wrapped herself in a black pea coat. After calling a cab, she stepped out her front door and down the concrete stairs that connected it to the ground. She'd been ecstatic to find a small, affordable town home close to work. Her flat in London had been sandwiched in between two of the worst neighbors: the old lady underneath with annoyingly acute hearing would come hobbling up the stairs at the slightest noise, ready to bash Florence's door down with a broom. Above, there were the two dancing roommates, who stayed up late into the night clomping around in tap shoes. Florence was now sworn off of apartment buildings.

The ride to work was a silent one. Florence spent the whole time thinking on the same subject as what had kept her up all night before. _He _hadn't bothered her in years, not since she and her mother had left. He'd probably lost track of the both of them by now. He might even be dead. Florence tried not to smile at the thought. The fear that had kept her from ever returning to Vegas wasn't even valid anymore. As long as she kept Spencer in the dark, then he wouldn't go looking for him. Everything would be fine.

Florence arrived at work in much better spirits.

Reid heard Florence's heels clacking along the hallway long before he saw her. He was standing by the coffee machine when she entered the room. Seeing him, she made her way over. She stopped next to him. "Hello, love," she said.

"Um… hi." Her manner startled him, as it was such a contrast from the day before. "You look awful."

She smiled. "Thank you? Anyway, I'm sorry about yesterday. I was just surprised to see you here, plus I haven't been too happy with you due to your lack of correspondence."

"About that…" Spencer started.

"No, it's in the past. Forget it! I certainly have."

"No, Florence. I'm sorry I never wrote, but that's because I only just received all of your letters a few days ago. My mom had been keeping them from me for years."

"Well why would she do that?"

"I don't know. I haven't exactly been visiting much since I left her at Bennington's…"

"What is Bennington's?"

Spencer was silent for a second. "It's a sanitarium. In Vegas." Neither spoke for a while. "Do you want coffee?" Spencer asked.

"No thanks," Florence answered. "I've never like the stuff. Don't you remember? Every time we went to that coffee shop together when we were kids, I always got hot chocolate."

"Yeah, I remember. Sorry."

She smiled. "We need to stop apologizing. Let's start over, shall we? Pretend that today's my first day on the job, and I just walked in." She took Spencer's coffee cup from his hand and placed it on the counter next to the machine. "Spencer!" she chimed. "What are you doing here? It's been ages!"

Spencer didn't bother to protest. "Hi, Florence," he said.

"Oh, come now, surely you can muster up more enthusiasm than that."

"Florence!"

"That's better." She pulled him in for a hug, squeezing tight. When she let go, Spencer noticed something.

"You're wearing the hat I bought you for your graduation," he said. "I remember, it was so hard to find something for you, and I remembered that you liked the twenties. So I bought you a flapper hat."

"Yes, it's a wonderful gift. It's getting a mite worn, though."

"I can't believe you kept that all this time."

"Of course I have, silly. I didn't have much left of you, after we left. I kept everything, with the exception of the pictures I sent you. Though…" She removed the hat from her head and placed it on Spencer's. "It makes you look rather dashing."

They both turned at the sound of laughter. It was Morgan. "Lavender, Reid?"

"Oh, be nice," said Garcia beside him. "But Reid, I would take that off before you draw any more attention. It won't be the right kind!"

Reid pulled the hat off of his head and put it back on Florence. He looked at her: her lopsided grin, her red hair hanging in her face, bangs fringing her intelligent green eyes… He put an arm around her and hugged her again. She smelled like apples. He turned his head to whisper, "I'm glad you're back."


	3. Chapter 3

Reid pulled the hat off of his head and put it back on Florence. He looked at her: her lopsided grin, her red hair hanging in her face, bangs fringing her intelligent green eyes… He put an arm around her and hugged her again. She smelled like apples. He turned his head to whisper, "I'm glad you're back."

Florence felt her face go a little warm at the feeling of Spencer's lips against her ear. She hurried over to her desk, mentally scolding herself for _that _particular train of thought. Never again, she told herself. That moment in his room that last night had been a near disaster. No, it had been an actual disaster. If she had just let it alone and ignored her own selfish romantic impulses, then it wouldn't have hurt so much to leave just then. Tearing herself away from him had been physically painful, more than scraping her knee when she jumped out of his second-story window. She needed to get her mind off of Spencer, at least for a while. That Morgan bloke was kind of cute… But workplace flings were a definite no-no… Oh, damn it all, she'd invite the whole team out for drinks. But she would ask Morgan first.

The following night, Florence's plan was implemented. The music was loud, the people energetic, and even Hotch was a little tipsy. Only one person remained sober in the entire crowed- Reid. His excuse was that he wanted to be sure that someone could drive the team home if someone needed it. He stood next to JJ, who, even buzzed, could best every man in the joint at darts. Morgan stood on JJ's other side, until Florence bounded up and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey, Morgan! Dance with me?" she asked.

He grinned at her. "Sure."

Spencer fumed as they walked off towards the dance floor. Florence was supposed to be _his _friend, not Morgan's. Why was she acting like this?

"You want my honest opinion?" JJ asked.

Reid jumped, now beet-red with embarrassment. "I didn't realize I was thinking out loud…"

"You weren't, but your face said plainly what you were thinking," said JJ.

"Oh…"

"Look, I think she's trying to make you jealous. That's just my first guess, though."

"Jealous?" Well, she was certainly successful. "Why would she do that?"

"I'm not saying anything more. This is between you two."

Spencer tried not to let his frustration show.

Florence and Morgan danced around for a while, enjoying themselves. Eventually, a young man about Florence's age sidled up to her. "Mind if I cut in?" he asked Morgan.

"Nah, we're not together, anyway," Morgan replied lightheartedly.

"Great," said the man, taking Florence's hand. She smiled at him. Strangers were a welcome distraction, especially since she wouldn't get in trouble for fraternization. This was the perfect opportunity to chip away at that pent up sexual tension that'd been giving her hell in her friendship with Spencer ever since their teens. She let the heady beat of the bass course through her, moving ever closer to this handsome stranger…

Reid looked over at Florence only to find her in some random man's arms, their chests almost touching as they swayed. What the hell? It was one thing when she'd been having fun with Morgan, but this was ridiculous. The crowd shifted and he lost sight of them. He waited before heading off to the bathroom to hopefully find some relative quiet. Going into the tiny hallway leading to the restroom, he ran into a couple necking against the wall. When he turned to apologize, he saw that it was Florence and the stranger. Without saying anything, he turned and continued on his way. He thought he heard a squeak as Florence tried to say something, but he was too angry to listen. She never got a word out anyway, before the guy kissed her again and they continued going at it.

In the restroom, Spencer went over to the sink and stared at himself in the small, dirty mirror. What was so wrong with him, he wondered, that Florence wouldn't even consider him? Except that she had… She'd told him that she loved him that one night. But she denied that any of that had ever happened. The door swung open as a couple fell into the room- Florence and her new boyfriend.

"Gerroffme-" she started, trying to speak. The man was pushing her into a stall. "Stop…" She saw Reid over the man's shoulder. "Spen-"

Instantly Spencer realized his mistake and ran at the man, pulling him back by the shirt-collar before he could bolt the stall closed. The man yelled when Florence jumped on him from behind, gripping his neck in a chokehold. He ran out of the stall, Florence still hanging off his back, and slammed himself, Florence-side-first, into a wall. She groaned and slipped to the floor. The man turned and swung his fist, hitting Spencer square in the jaw. Reid, reeling from the blow, tried to punch the man but missed.

"Who do you think you're messing with, beanpole?" the man taunted. "I could snap you in half like a damn toothpick."

Spencer launched himself at him, but the man swung to the side, kneeing Spencer in the stomach. Reid dropped to his knees, gasping. Rescue came in the form of Morgan charging into the room. "What the hell is going on here?" he yelled. Morgan threw one perfect punch into the stranger's gut, easily winding him. "You are so lucky I don't have my gun on me. I could charge you for assault of three federal agents, you know that?"

The man's eyes went wide, moving from Morgan, to Reid, to Florence then back again. Florence, now on her knees, had by this point removed one of her enormous platform heels, which she promptly smashed into the man's crotch. He squealed like a pig being slaughtered. "B…Bastard," she hiccupped.

"That works too, I guess," said Morgan.

Florence wobbled as she tried to stand. Reid helped her up. "You're drunk," he stated.

"Indeed…" she mumbled.

"I'm taking you home now, okay?" he asked. Florence's head flopped in what Spencer took as a nod of consent. "Come on," he said.

"You okay, kid?" Morgan asked him, looking at the red blotch on his face that would no doubt be a bruise by morning. Spencer just nodded and led Florence outside to his car. Florence leaned on him, which made walking significantly more difficult, especially since she was half-hopping. With only one shoe on, the difference in the height of her legs was about four inches. Once in the car, Florence took off her other shoe, glad to be free of the weight. She leaned her head against the dash as Spencer drove out of the parking lot and into the streets.

"You really should put your seatbelt on," commented Spencer. "If we get into an accident, you could get killed. People not wearing seatbelts are 68% more likely to get seriously injured or killed in a wreck."

"And did you know that 87% of statistics are made up?" asked Florence. Spencer stared blankly. "It was a joke, you know… the number… and the… oh never mind. My life would be easier if I died in a wreck, anyway."

"What? Your life wouldn't be easier, it'd be over. Don't say that."

"Forget it, Spencer. Besides, you drive like my grandmother. We're not going to get into an accident with you at the wheel." Florence clicked her belt anyway.

Florence was asleep when they arrived at her house. Reid shook her shoulder, waking her. She groggily pulled at the latch to let herself out. On her doorstep, she fumbled for her keys. When she found the key she was looking for, she tried to put it into the lock. In her half-asleep, half-drunken stupor, she missed the hole. She tried again, and failed again. Her head fell against the door as she sighed, jabbing half-heartedly at the lock. Spencer reached around from behind her to firmly take her hand, guiding it to the target and unlocking the door. Florence stepped inside, but didn't let go of Spencer's hand. Spencer had never dealt with a drunken Florence before, but past experience told him to go along with it.

She pulled him over to the space between her kitchen and her living room and stopped. Turning, she wrapped her arms around him and held on tight, her fingers knotting into the fabric of his shirt. Spencer went along with this, too. "You're my knight in shining armour, you know that?" she mumbled into his chest.

"Hardly. I just ended up getting beaten. Morgan…"

"Is your trusty sidekick who always shows up to save your sorry arse in the knick of time. But you did save me."

"Not really…"

"I haven't been that scared for my life in a long time."

Something about that phrase rung a bell in Spencer's head, but he ignored it. "You know, you kind of saved yourself. I think you severely inhibited that man's ability to reproduce, if it makes you feel any better."

"That thought is a nice one, I think. I'm tired…"

"I think I'll go, then."

"No!" Florence gasped. "Stay. Don't leave me."

_You left me, _Spencer wanted to say. What actually came out of his mouth was: "Okay. But only if you tell me something."

"What?"

Reid felt bad for taking advantage of her state, but he had to ask the question while she was still loose-lipped. "Do you remember saying goodbye to me, before you left Vegas?"

"Of course I remember. It was a hell of a way to go, huh? I went out with style. Even if I lacked some class in the whole thing… I kissed you, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did."

"Hm." Florence smiled. "I still would, if it wouldn't be such a bad idea. That's why I left Vegas."

"You left because you kissed me?

"No, silly-bear. We left because of my step-dad. He…" She stopped, as if she finally realized what she was saying. "You know. My mum just didn't love him…"

"That's not what you were going to say."

"Of course it is. What other reason would we have for running?"

"Running from what?"

"Running off, not running from. Honestly, Spencer, don't you listen?" She walked off towards the bathroom. Reid waited, listening to the splash of running water and the rustle of clothing. Florence came out in a hugely oversized t-shirt, looking like the Joker: makeup was smeared across her face, eye shadow ringing her eye sockets and lipstick forming a demented grin across her face.

Spencer sighed and took her hand, leading her back to the sink. He picked up a washcloth as Florence hopped onto the counter. "You're a real mess, Florrie."

"Haven't heard that name in ages…" she slurred. Her eyes drooped. Spencer took this opportunity to dab the powder off of her eyelids. He continued to gently wipe at her face until all the makeup was cleaned away. After that, he put his arm around her waist and helped her into bed, tucking each blanket up around her, just like he used to. She was unconscious the moment her head hit the pillow, if not before. Reid was content to sit beside her and think. His mind wandered back to their earlier conversation. She'd said, "…still would." She would still kiss him, if it weren't such a bad idea. Why was it such a bad idea? But she'd said that she still would… Reid fell asleep on that contented thought.

**Forget the review policy. The whole set-up was amateur and selfish, and I'm truly sorry. I already posted my apology/thank-you rant in the review section. Look at it if you care, it explains a lot. I'm really, really sorry to you all. Just be glad you're not a part of my fucked up life. Because then I wouldn't be able to say sorry to your face. Fantastic, now I sound like an emo kid. I just want all of you to know that I'm so, so, sorry, and I'm not sure if I can really take this one back.**

**12/10: I'm really, really sorry to all of you. I've been, let me REPEAT, selfish and amateur, and I'm not going to let it happen again. The update/review policy is officially revoked. It was stupid. I don't deserve your time. If you really like Criminal Minds, you'll get off my worthless, shitty writing and go read someone like Cassieoeia823 or CatherineJosephineMarie007. Or if you like Jasper, you'll read chuffed-git, or if you like Harry Potter you'll read lostmidtranslation. They're all better than me and much more worth your time. I don't even follow up on real life promises, let alone the stuff I promise to people on here. Disgruntled Reader, whoever you are, thank you for disenchanting me as to my worth as a writer. I needed the reality check.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry if it's a little off, accuracy-wise. I didn't have the episode on hand to reference, so I had to rely purely on memory. Plus, I just wanted to get through the train parts. I hope you like it. Thanks to people who supported me in the reviewing fiasco. That was a nightmare. Thank you, loves!**

His mind wandered back to their earlier conversation. She'd said, "…still would." She would still kiss him, if it weren't such a bad idea. Why was it such a bad idea? But she'd said that she still would… Reid fell asleep on that contented thought.

Reid woke, hours later, to a tickling feeling under his nose. He realized that it was Florence's hair; she must have flopped over some time in the night. She was now snuggled up against him, her head pillowed on his chest. Spencer brought his hand up, trailing his fingers along her ribcage and shoulders, eventually coming to rest on the small of her back. It was easier to deal with everything he'd felt in high school and college, and maybe even now, when she was asleep. Sunlight streamed in through the gaps in the blinds. Wondering what time it was, Spencer looked at the clock on the bedside table. It read 11:52. Reid couldn't remember the last time he'd been so glad that it was a Saturday. Florence shifted in her sleep, turning so that her head now rested on his shoulder. This didn't prove to be very comfortable, and her eyes soon fluttered open. She groaned. "Morning, sleepy-head," said Reid.

"What… why are you… ugh. Forgive me, how drunk was I last night, exactly?" she asked. "Sorry… No offense. I mean, I'm not saying I _wouldn't,_ you know, but… ah. It's just… I don't remember anything past… let's see. You drove me home."

"Yes."

"I still think you drive like my grana. And when we got here, we… talked, for a while, right?" She was counting out the events on her fingers, each nail pressing into Reid's shirt as she remembered things.

"Yes."

"And then I changed, and you had to help me get my makeup off, and then…"

"You fell dead asleep. I had to help you get into bed… I think you were actually asleep before I had even gotten you onto the mattress."

"Oh… sorry about that."

"No need to be sorry, Florence. You were both moderately drunk and lacking sleep; it's a combination that would have anybody knocked out before too long."

She sighed and nuzzled her face back into his shoulder. This didn't last long. "Spencer, darling, your shoulder is unbelievably bony. I think your dear mother was right all along, about you being too skinny." She moved her head back against his chest. "You still smell like the bar. All vodka and peanuts and cigarettes."

"Sorry?"

"Don't apologize, love. At least you don't smell like bar bathrooms. Then you'd smell like all of the above plus piss and vomit."

"Uh, yeah. I'm glad I don't smell like that."

"Me too." She fiddled with his shirt, fingers twisting the fabric into wrinkled patterns.

"Would you, still?" Spencer asked.

"Would I what?"

"I- You said something last night. I mean, you were, uh, inebriated, so I don't know if you really meant it…"

"What did I say?"

"That you would still… kiss me…"

Florence sat up, only a little. "Spencer, I…" She was painfully aware of their proximity to each other. Bad Florence. Bad, bad Florence. "Spencer…" she repeated. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to kiss him very, very much. But she couldn't. At least, she reasoned, he would never make the first move. That made it easier, since she only had herself to worry about. She knew her friend's introversion would work to help the both of them in this situation. But then…

Reid suddenly brought his mouth to hers, closing the gap completely. Florence felt a shock run through her at the contact. Her mind was frozen is surprise, but her body knew exactly what to do: what it had wanted to do since she was a teenager. One hand stayed against his chest while the other slid up to his neck. The arm that Reid already had against her back pulled her closer, so that she was more on top of him than she was beside him. His other hand went to her waist. Florence's mind began to clear, but her thoughts were so confused that it was making her already hung-over brain hurt. This wasn't supposed to happen. But it was happening, anyway. She wanted it to happen. She couldn't. His lips were so wonderfully soft… She was not going to let him get hurt because she had no self-discipline. But _he_ had lost track of her! But what if _he hadn't_? Good Lord, where on earth had Spencer learned to kiss like that? What had he been _doing _since she left? Whatever happened to her shy little genius? Not that she really minded this particular change… oh yes she did. She had to put a stop to this. No, she didn't. Yes, she did. No. Yes. No. Yes! No! No, no, no! Florence whimpered and pulled away.

"Stop, Spencer. Please, stop," she said.

Reid stared at her; his hands still hadn't left her sides. She had the same terrified look in her eyes that she'd had back when they were kids, that last time he'd seen her and the first time they'd kissed. Florence pushed him away and crawled over to the opposite corner of the bed.

"You have to tell me what's wrong, Florence. Please," he said.

"You can't… You just can't pull shit like that on me, okay? Just… don't."

"Florence…" He was sitting up, reaching for her hand.

"No!" She half-jumped, half-fell off the bed, moving towards the door.

"Please don't leave me again!"

That phrase about broke Florence's heart. Spencer stood up, but she could only stand there. He walked over, but she was still rooted to the spot. He put his arms around her again, but she didn't move. "You don't want this," she whispered.

"Yes, I do."

"No, Spencer. Trust me, please. You don't."

"Why not?" Before she could answer, Reid's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and flipped it open. "Hello?" Florence could hear a vague mumbling on the other side of the line. "Okay." He hung up. "We've been called in, and we need to be there as soon as we possibly can. You need to get changed."

Hotchner raised an eyebrow when Reid and Florence walked in. "Reid, why didn't you get some clothes from your apartment before you came?"

"How did you know I-"

"It's obvious that you slept in those, Reid," said Hotchner.

"Or that they spent the night in a crumpled pile in the corner…" mumbled Morgan, who had just come in. He winked at Florence, who elbowed him. Hard.

"What's the emergency, Hotch?" she asked.

"There's a hostage situation on a train in Texas. Elle's on board."

The plane ride down to Texas was tense. The ride in the SUV once they got to Texas was just awkward. When Florence had insisted on Morgan sitting between her and Reid, Morgan guessed something was up. He only had to figure out what it was. "Look, you two," he said. "I didn't mean what I said this morning. It was only a joke."

"I'm aware of that," said Florence.

"What's up with you two, then? I thought you'd known each other for years back in school. Why the sudden rift?"

"How did you know that we knew each other in school?"

"I…"

"You were eavesdropping?"

"And I found a box full of your letters on Reid's desk."

"You were snooping?"

"JJ did too!"

"Fantastic. Just fantastic." Florence turned away and continued watching the scenery- mostly dust- pass by. "Why are you so fixated on that, anyway? You should be thinking about how to help Elle."

A while later, helping Elle was proving to be more difficult than they'd hoped. The unsub was delusional and didn't trust Elle in the slightest, since she was and FBI agent. He thought that everyone around him on the train was part of the government, who, in his mind, was following his every move. He was armed and likely to shoot everyone in the train car if they didn't get them all out, fast. His psychiatrist was one of the hostages, and she'd informed them that the man believed that there was a microchip in his arm. Hotch was trying to think of a plan to get someone inside to play along with the unsub's delusion. The plan ended up as such: Reid, self-trained in magic tricks, would board the train with a concealed microchip, which he would then pretend to extract from the unsub's wrist. Reid was practicing with a chip which had been pulled out of a Blackberry, and it wasn't going well. He dropped the chip several times before getting it right even once.

As he prepared to board, he turned to the group, saying, "Could you guys do me a favor?"

"Anything," said Morgan.

"Could at least one of you look like you're going to see me again?" he asked.

"See you when you get back," answered Hotch.

"Mm-hm," agree Florence, though it didn't mask how terrified she was to see him going in there. She practically glomped him, enfolding Reid in a tight hug before he went into the car. Before she'd even let go, Hotch pulled her roughly away. She yelped in protest.

"I have an idea, just go with it," he said. "Just in case the unsub is watching. I'll explain later."

Reid boarded the train, and the rest of the team went into the tent to watch the feed from the surveillance camera. The first thing Reid did when he got inside was the one thing Morgan had specifically told him not to do: he removed his bullet-proof vest.

"Damnit, Reid. I said don't take it off!" said Morgan.

Florence groaned, knowing that if the unsub started shooting, Spencer had pretty much just nixed his chances for survival. They watched as Reid performed the trick, making it seem as if he had just surgically removed a microchip from the unsub's arm. But soon, things started to go wrong.

"This is not good," said Hotch.

"What can we do?" asked Morgan. "The unsub's getting angrier by the second. We need to get Reid off of that train."

"We need to humanize him," said Gideon. "Make him seem less like he's from the government. Endear him to the unsub, almost. Reid needs to look like a complete civilian, a helpless pawn for the agents."

"How do we do that?" asked JJ.

"This is that idea I had earlier," said Hotch. "Florence, this is where you come in. Out of all of us, you look the most like a civilian." Where everyone else was wearing business suits and headsets, Florence was wearing a blazer over a tee and a tulle skirt.

Soon the unsub was on the phone again. "Dr. Byar," said Hotch. "We have someone here who needs to talk to one of the people on the train with you. The technician we sent in there? His name is Spencer Reid. His wife is here, and she's causing a scene. We are hoping that letting her talk to him will calm her down." Hotch was silent for a moment, listening. "Very well." He turned to Florence. "He won't let you talk to Reid. He wants to see you. We're going to set up something for you to stand on so that you can look in the window."

A few minutes later, Florence was about to be sent out. "Don't make any sudden movements," said Gideon.

"You need to look scared. Maybe even a little hysterical," suggested JJ. "You're supposed to be Reid's wife, you'll need a ring. See if this one fits." She pulled a ring off of her own finger, which, luckily, just fit Florence. "There."

"Be a little clumsy, but don't overdo it, climbing up onto the police car. It's positioned so that you'll be about eye-level with the people on the train if you stand on it," said Hotch.

"Good luck," said Morgan.

Florence was then ushered out of the tent and past the ring of snipers. She ran out through the dust by herself and climbed awkwardly onto the hood of the police cruiser. Once she was on top of it, she stood up shakily. Spencer pushed the blinds aside, looking out at her from the opposite side of the glass. Florence had always been able to cry on command; crying when she actually wanted to was absolutely no problem. She let tears roll down her face, letting every ounce of the fear she felt escape. She pressed one hand to the glass and Spencer followed suit, their hands mirroring each other through the pane. Catching sight of the unsub inside, she began banging on the window, begging that he let Spencer go. Her screaming startled the man, and he brought up his gun. Spencer waved his arms no, Florence was not a threat. Florence felt someone pulling her down from the car, catching her and escorting her back past the line of officers and into the tent. It was Morgan, patting her back and telling her that everything was okay and that she'd done great. Florence abruptly quit the tears and regained composure. She took JJ's ring off her finger and gave it back. "So how did I do?" she asked.

"You definitely shook him up," said Gideon. "But it looks like he's still undecided."

They watched the surveillance cam for a while. Someone on board said something that the unsub didn't like, and he started shooting. The camera was blacked out and the phone line was cut off. The only thing alerting the team as to the condition of the hostages was the sound of gunshots firing. Everyone had different methods of dealing with this. Morgan kicked something in frustration. Hotch cradled his head in his hands. Gideon covered his mouth and paced the length of the tent, while JJ sat down, breathing slowly. Florence showed no reaction or emotion whatsoever.

Every minute felt like hours in the tense atmosphere. The swat team was ready to charge in at the order, but that could kill everyone inside the car. There was one last gunshot before everything went silent. Everyone stared as the door to the car creaked open. Out walked Reid, along with Elle, supporting the wounded psychiatrist. The other hostages followed. Paramedics rushed over with a stretcher to take the woman to an ambulance. The team ran over to Elle and Spencer, who were virtually unharmed. Florence hung back as the rest of the BAU talked to their teammates. Her cell phone was buzzing in her pocket. She looked at the screen. Unknown number. She flipped it open. "Hello?"

"_Hello, darling_."

Florence froze.

"It's been too long, Florence. How's your mother doing? Not that it really matters. We both know I'm more interested in you."

"Oh God."

"What was that, sweetheart? I've missed you so. You should have called me; it took me forever to find you. And now we can resume our fun, can't we?"

"You can't do this, I'm with-"

"The FBI, I know. The Behavioral Analysis Unit, isn't it? I wonder how well they can analyze you. Have they figured out all your problems yet, Florence? No, they haven't. They wouldn't let you stay if they had. I see you've found your little problem friend again, as well. See, what I don't understand is why you told Spencer goodbye, but you never gave me the same courtesy. Why is that, Florence?"

"I can have this call traced, and they'll find you…"

"But you won't have it traced, will you? Because you know that I still have weapons at my disposal that will have your little sweetheart in pieces before they ever find me. That's why you never told, my sweet. That's why you always behaved so perfectly."

"Please…"

"Please what? Leave you alone?"

"No. Leave Spencer alone."

"I will, as long as you follow orders. Just like old times, right sweet?"

"I'll kill you; I swear to God I'm going to kill you."

"Just try, Florence. It should make our fun that much more interesting."

"Hey, Florence!" Florence jumped in surprise. Spencer had walked over and she hadn't even noticed him. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she breathed.

"Say, 'Goodbye, Mom.'"

"Goodbye, Mom."

"Say, 'I love you, too, Mom.'"

"I love you too, Mom."

"Say, 'Bye.'"

"Bye."

"Your mother called?" asked Spencer. Florence nodded. "Is everything okay?"

"I should be the one asking you that, shouldn't I?" asked Florence. "You're the one who almost got killed in a hostage situation."

"I'm fine, Florence. You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Nah, everything's good in life, now. Look, JJ's waving at us. It's time to go back to Virginia. Frankly, I could use a bath, to get rid of all this ridiculous dust."


	5. Chapter 5

"Say, 'Bye.'"

"Bye."

"Your mother called?" asked Spencer. Florence nodded. "Is everything okay?"

"I should be the one asking you that, shouldn't I?" asked Florence. "You're the one who almost got killed in a hostage situation."

"I'm fine, Florence. You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Nah, everything's good in life, now. Look, JJ's waving at us. It's time to go back to Virginia. Frankly, I could use a bath, to get rid of all this ridiculous dust."

After the train, the team got the rest of the weekend off without being called in. The one day they had left was precious; no one wasted it. Florence, after taking a much needed, six-hour nap, woke up and went to the bathroom to splash herself awake. Looking in the mirror, she noticed that a piece of her bangs seemed shorter than the rest. Ignoring this, she spent the afternoon poring over old scrapbooks. Each page she turned was like a gateway into a happier version of her past, some kind of alternate reality. The darker moments in her life hadn't been recorded. She found an old family photo tacked to a page from '93, which she promptly yanked out. After carefully tearing her step-dad out of the picture, she held his image over a match, letting the ash and burning flecks of gloss-paper fall into the sink. She considered telling Spencer about her step-dad, about why he shouldn't want her. Forget baggage, Florence came with a freight train. Plus a barge. And possibly a Cave of Not-So-Wonderful Wonders. But she couldn't tell him, just like she couldn't tell the rest of the team. Their lives were risky enough without her adding Samuel and his pipe-bomb collection to the mix. Their whole world was a bowl of mixed nuts, she decided, each peanut, cashew, and almond dripping with its own brand of poison. There were so many ways for field agents to die, already. Bringing her step-dad into it was not going to solve her problems.

Monday came bright and excruciatingly early, with a brand-new serial killer waiting. JJ brought them all to the meeting room for a briefing. "I was looking through the submitted files, and this one really caught my attention for reasons you're about to see," she said. "It's from Richmond, Virginia, where a string of murders have gotten a complaint from the British Embassy." She laid out photographs of victims. "Jane Elliot, 16, Abby North, 18, Miranda Hunter, 18, Claire Donnelly, 17, and Lacy Johnson, 16… All British exchange students visiting the US."

"They're all redheads," commented Morgan.

Florence was now very aware that the entire team was staring at her. Hoping to get their eyes off of her, she asked, "What's the MO?"

"They were all killed by a stab to the heart, but not before being subjected to various methods of torture, including broken fingers and kneecaps, electrical shock, beating, and with the most recent two, holes in their arms, presumably drilled, inflicted while the victims were still alive. One particularly odd thing: Each victim was found with an object, each of which has been confirmed to not belong to the victim."

"We can drive to Richmond," said Hotch. "I want you all ready to go in an hour."

With their go-bags loaded into the two SUV's and each agent seated (somewhat) comfortably, the team was on the road even earlier than Hotch had expected. JJ explained further details to Hotch and Elle while Morgan drove; Gideon, Florence, and Reid in the other car and Garcia in her office listened in via conference call. Each victim had disappeared within hours of their arrival stateside, and had been missing 72 hours before their bodies were found. Coroners' reports showed that the victims had been alive for most of that time, and been dumped in sites where they were easily found. The first victim, Jane Elliot, was found with a silk flower tied to her wrist. The second, Abby North, was found wearing a charm bracelet. Miranda Hunter was found with a boat paddle, Claire Donnelly wearing a pair of galoshes, and Lacy Johnson with a calendar for 1998, with the date April 22 circled. The Johnsons have said that the date has no significance for them. Each victim was found in highly public places, only slightly hidden, between the hours of five and eight AM."

"Sounds like he's dumping the bodies at night for other people to find. He wants attention, then?" suggested Morgan.

"Are there no witnesses?" asked Hotch.

"None have come forward, except for other students traveling with the victims. They didn't see anything except for each of the victims suddenly disappearing into the crowd, always at or very near the airport."

"Which airport is this?" asked Gideon.

"Richmond International, by far the biggest in the area," JJ answered.

"We'll need to check airport personnel. Whoever it was that took these girls is at RI when they arrive, and has contact with them before they even get to their hotels. Include anyone working in nearby rental agencies, taxi and bus services," said Hotch. "Garcia, can you run background checks?"

"Sweetie pie, you gotta narrow that down. There's waaaaay to many people to track down one person in this mess…" Garcia replied.

"Try staff on duty at the time of the victims' landing," said Reid.

"Okay, that's still a massive list of people."

"We need people who would come into contact with arrivals from Britain," said Elle. "That should rule out some more. Leave out baggage loaders and anyone on the flights. They wouldn't be done in time to get to these girls."

"Okay, that's better, loves. Tell ya when I'm done."

"Thanks, Garcia," said Hotch.

The Richmond field office was a flurry of people and papers. Everyone's nerves were on edge, since the case held international significance. Foreign exchange organizations were up to their ears in cancellation forms and the FBI was busy dealing with parents who blamed the whole of American law enforcement for the killings. "When parents send their children overseas, they worry about aeroplane crashes, not serial killers," commented Florence. "This is the last thing they were expecting."

"We need to figure out why this type is significant to him. Why this specific? What is it about British redheads that this guy likes so much?" asked Morgan.

"Not to mention the objects," said JJ. "What reason does he have for leaving them with the victims?"

"I'll be working on the geography," said Reid as he walked over towards the map.

"JJ, you come with me talk to the field agents. Elle and Morgan, talk to the other students. Gideon and Carroll, look at the items the killer left," ordered Hotchner.

Florence sat down at a table opposite Gideon. The objects were lined up in evidence bags, along with pictures of them taken at the crime scene. "There doesn't seem to be any importance to the location of the thing," said Gideon.

"They're all just tied to victim wherever it looked convenient. He just wanted to make sure they were found with the items. We just have to figure out what he's trying to say," said Florence. The galoshes looked disturbingly familiar, but she didn't point this out to Gideon.

"The boots are the wrong size for the victim," noticed Gideon. "Claire Donnelly wore a size 5, it says here, but the boots were a size 8."

Florence forced herself not to glance down at her own feet as Gideon said this. "Maybe they belong to someone else. He's using these girls as surrogates. The boots might belong to the person that he's trying to get back at."

"Very likely. I'll tell Hotch," said Gideon, as he stood up to leave. Just after Gideon left, Spencer came into the room, having sent all the information that he could to Garcia.

"Hey," he said. "Need any help?"

"Yeah, sure," said Florence.

He examined the bracelet. "It's a chain of charms," he said.

"Yes, that's why they call it a _charm _bracel-"

"No, I mean _lucky _charms. Like the cereal. This one's a four-leafed clover; here's a rainbow, a horse-shoe, a rabbit's foot…"

"So we've got a bunch of lucky charms. But we've also got a flower, boots, a calendar, and a paddle…"

"That's actually an oar. There's a difference." He stopped. "Flower, lucky charms, oar, rain boots, calendar… What date was circled again?"

"April 22, but the victim's family said-"

"That's Earth Day." He grabbed a note pad and a pen and wrote it all down. Reid scribbled frantically until he had the things listed in a column down the page. "Florence…"

"What? What's the matter?" She could see the wheels turning behind his eyes. He turned the notebook so she could see it. "Coincidence, purely coincidence…" On the page, Spencer had written:

_F__lower_

_L__ucky charms_

_O__ar_

_R__ain boots_

_E__arth Day_

He ripped out the paper and rushed out of the room, with Florence chasing behind him. "Hotch!" he called. "Gideon!"

"What is it?" asked Hotch.

"I've found something…" Reid panted. "Look!" He practically shoved the paper into his boss's face. "Do you see what that almost spells?"

"Sir, that means nothing!" insisted Florence. "How could he know me?"

Spencer went over to her and pointed to her hair. "You're a redhead! You're half British, and this thing spells out most of your name! You can't… you can't just- just sit here and ignore this!"

"How could he know me?" she repeated. "I've never even been to Richmond before!"

"She's right, Reid. Until we have more concrete evidence, we cannot assume that this has anything to do with Agent Carroll at all. We'll just keep an eye on her, alright?"

Spencer reluctantly agreed with his boss and glared at Florence's smug face.

At eleven-thirty at night, the hotel lobby was silent. The sleeping desk-attendant didn't stir when two figures came through the revolving door. They made their way over to the couches on the far side of the room, their heels tapping quietly on the hardwood floor.

"I still think you should at least be careful," said Spencer.

"As if I'm not already," whispered Florence.

"Actually, you're really not that careful about anything, I think. You just dance through life completely untouched by any threat. You're not cautious."

"You have no idea," she said, softly.

"Why are you whispering?" They had yet to sit down; neither of them really felt like it at the moment.

"He's sleeping," Florence breathed, nodding at the attendant.

"Well he shouldn't be, on the job. He could get fired."

"You know who _should _be sleeping? You. Give me a kiss goodnight?"

"Wait, what?"

"You heard me!" She tilted her head slightly. "Come on, love."

Nervously, hesitantly, Spencer bent to kiss her. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides. Her mouth was five inches away, four inches, three, two… At the very last millisecond, Florence dodged and gave him an affectionate peck on the cheek. "Meanie," he said.

"What, did you think I meant on the _lips_?" She waggled her eyebrows, grinning mischievously. "Well, then, time for bed." Just as she turned, Spencer felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out.

"Hey, do you know this number?" he asked Florence. She glanced at it and shook her head. "Hm…" He flipped it open. "Hello?"

"Dr. Spencer Reid…" the voice intoned, like sandpaper sliding over Jell-O, gooey and rough at the same time. "I've wanted to talk to you for a very long time."

"Who is this?" Spencer asked. He glanced up at Florence, who was twirling around, mumbling the words 'dancing through life.'

"You don't remember me? Shame. Florence will know me, I already spoke to her. But you didn't know that, did you? She didn't tell you, because she doesn't want you to worry."

"Who is this?" Spencer repeated, this time with more force.

"Put me on speaker," the voice ordered. "Let's remind Florence who she's dealing with."

Spencer slowly pressed the speaker-phone button and set the cell on the coffee table. Florence looked over, concerned. "What's amiss, Spencer dear?"

The voice crackled over the phone's weak speaker. "Hello, Florence. I just wanted to make sure that you know that I know how to access your little pet. Don't think that you can hide him. You can't protect him forever, you know. That is, unless you go outside and dial the number I've left taped to the nearest traffic light. You'll know what to do, won't you? The same thing you always did. It will all be over soon, darling."

Spencer had grabbed Florence's purse and pulled out her cell phone, and was calling Garcia. Florence stood frozen to the spot. Spencer spoke quietly into the phone, hoping not to alert the voice of his activities. "Garcia, are you still at the BAU? Good, great… I need you to trace a call to my cell phone, right now. I think the killer just called us. He's threatening Florence…"

"Pick up the phone, Spencer," said the voice. "I only want you to hear me now."

"I have to go, Garcia…" Spencer hung up and went to pick up the other phone. Florence was moving again, wandering towards the door as if in a dream.

"She's coming to me, isn't she? She's such a good girl, always doing exactly what I tell her to. I just have a decision to make, now. How shall I return her to you? Yes, don't worry. I'll give her back to you. I just haven't decided whether I'll leave her whole, in your apartment, or should I just leave her around in pieces for you to find?"

"You'll never touch her…"

"I hardly have to. She does almost everything all by herself. All she needs is a little… persuasion. She's coming to me, now."

Florence's hand was on the glass of the revolving door.

The other phone buzzed impatiently in Spencer's hand. He put down his own phone and answered it. "Reid? My sweet little genius? I've called Hotch. Whoever this bastard is, he's right outside the hotel! I mean like, hiding in the bushes, right outside!" With a yelp, Spencer dropped the phone and dashed over to the door, where Florence was about a foot away from getting killed. He yanked her back just as a volley of bullets came raining down on the glass, from a semi-automatic.

A gunshot shattered the window, this one from inside near the elevators, aimed at the silhouette outside. The team had arrived. The scene would have seemed comical, in any other circumstances. A group of seven FBI agents, three armed and five in their pyjamas, in the lobby of a hotel at midnight. Everyone looked rather frazzled. Elle ran over to check on Florence while Reid fell to his knees, exhaustion and relief overwhelming him. Morgan jumped through the hole where there was once a glass door, taking off down the street after the disappearing murderer. He didn't catch him.

"Is... is _that _enough proof?!" Spencer asked. Hotch remained silent.

**I'm so sorry about the wait! All of you readers are fantastic for putting up with me this long! I'd thought that I'd get a lot done over break, but it was not so. No inspiration, whatsoever. Then exams… well technically, STILL exams, but that's nothing you need to worry about. Unless you're Yeoman94 or WitteVrouw (sp?) I'll just call you WhiteChick. :) So anyway, sorry about the long wait, though I must say that a lot of my favorite writers (whom I still need to actually favorite, oops) type up a great thing and then leave it for months on end, no matter how many times I review and ask them to continue. One of my absolute favorite stories was stopped in the eighth… I think… chapter, and was left to die for TWO YEARS. Honestly, don't leave stuff up if you're never going to update! It's mean! :P **


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm sorry if the story doesn't stick to well, chronologically speaking, to the show. I'm being lazy and don't feel like going through all the episodes in between Derailed and wherever I end up. I might throw Lila in there, just for the lulz. If you're one of those people who loathe her to the core of your soul, too bad. I might not be a huge fan of the pseudo-starlet, but I do think she would make an interesting plot device. So now, on to the story! But first, a quick review.**

**Sorry it's so short! I'm lacking inspiration in the transitions department. I've got the next bit all lined up but I just don't know how it get there… Ugh. I normally wouldn't post this until it was longer, but I feel that I owe you something for putting up with me for this long. Enjoy!**

Previously on Florence :D

_Florence, after taking a much needed, six-hour nap, woke up and went to the bathroom to splash herself awake. Looking in the mirror, she noticed that a piece of her bangs seemed shorter than the rest……."We'll need to check airport personnel. Whoever it was that took these girls is at RI when they arrive, and has contact with them before they even get to their hotels. Include anyone working in nearby rental agencies, taxi and bus services," said Hotch……."The boots are the wrong size for the victim," noticed Gideon. "Claire Donnelly wore a size 5, it says here, but the boots were a size 8."…… The voice crackled over the phone's weak speaker. "Hello, Florence. I just wanted to make sure that you know that I know how to access your little pet. Don't think that you can hide him. You can't protect him forever, you know. That is, unless you go outside and dial the number I've left taped to the nearest traffic light. You'll know what to do, won't you? The same thing you always did. It will all be over soon, darling."…… The other phone buzzed impatiently in Spencer's hand. He put down his own phone and answered it. "Reid? My sweet little genius? I've called Hotch. Whoever this bastard is, he's right outside the hotel! I mean like, hiding in the bushes, right outside!" With a yelp, Spencer dropped the phone and dashed over to the door, where Florence was about a foot away from getting killed. He yanked her back just as a volley of bullets came raining down on the glass, from a semi-automatic. _

The police were there in mere minutes, sirens wailing down the streets of Richmond. The desk-attendant had been woken, rather unpleasantly, to the sound of gunshots and had immediately called 911. Bewildered, he asked the group of weapon-bearing, pyjamas-wearing guests in the lobby what the hell was going on. Shortly afterward, he wished he hadn't.

Florence stood up and began to stumble through the trail of broken glass, back to the entrance. The rest of the team followed. "He was on the phone…" she began. "And he told me to call the number… on the payphone." The aforementioned payphone was just outside on the corner. Tacked to the side of it was a yellow Post-It note, bearing a number that JJ quickly sent off to Garcia. Gideon stepped closer to the little booth, having noticed something in the directory shelf. A tiny box engraved with Florence's name.

"Does anybody have any gloves?" he asked. No one did. Using the hem of his shirt to cover his hands, he cautiously pried the thing open. It held a lock of dark red hair. Florence's hand flew up to her forehead.

"Oh my God, oh my God," she gasped. "This morning, I didn't think anything of it…"

"What is it?" asked Morgan.

"That's mine. I swear, it's mine. Look." She fingered a section of her bangs that was perceivably shorter than the hair surrounding it. The line was too straight to be natural.

"You say you first noticed this morning?" asked Hotch.

"Yes…"

"So it's not old, then. He's done this recently. He must have found a way into your house without you finding out."

"What?!"

"You must have been asleep when he did it," said Elle.

"Don't you have an alarm system?" questioned Reid. Florence shook her head no. "See! I told you, you're never careful about anything! This guy has seen you asleep in your bed!"

"Reid, he called _your _cell phone?" asked Hotch.

"Yeah, but I don't see how that-"

"You're both going into protective custody. Tonight."

"Hotch, the unsub was threatening Florence, not Reid," said Elle. "Why should he have to go, too?"

"This man knows at least some of Reid's personal information. They were both shot at tonight; at this point, I don't want to take any chances."

Reid and Florence had their go-bags reloaded and were at the safe house within the hour. "If you need anything, we're not far. There are cops guarding every entrance. Keep the blinds closed. Don't answer the land line for any reason, we'll never call you on it. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Hotch," the two chorused.

Florence turned to her friend. "So, what do you want to do?"

The agents Reid and Carroll spent the next few hours occupied by popcorn and pay-per-view movies.


End file.
